Valentines Day
by hpluva7812
Summary: My path has lost direction, somehow...


**Helloooooooo. This is another fic I wrote a while ago. It is a song fic to Linkin Park's song "Valentine's Day" (awesome, awesome song by an awesome, awesome band which I strongly recommend you should listen to if you haven't already). And for any easily confused people, the random, isolated, italicized paragraphs are song lyrics. So....yeah... however depressing it is.... read, review, be married, ENJOY! :)**

**hpluva7812 signing off *salutes* :3**

**

* * *

  
**

_**Valentines Day**_

_My insides all turn to ash_

_So slow_

_And blow away as I collapsed_

_So cold_

I was one of the few to remain behind after the ceremony ended. But I was the only one who didn't go home afterwards. No, while everyone else drove back to the safety of their homes following paying their last respects, I remained in the icy cold outdoors. The sky was a dingy grey marquee that curtained the sun and leaked a heavy drizzle of icy rain onto those foolish enough to remain under it. My sodden clothes and hair were plastered to my skin as the downpour showed no signs of stopping; and I clenched my jaw to prevent my teeth chattering in the midst of the freezing water. Only a psycho would stay out in these conditions… Well call me crazy, because I couldn't go home. How could I, when everything in that goddamn apartment reminds me of him?!

After wandering aimlessly through the large, deserted (at least by the living) churchyard, I finally came to rest at a plain, completely non-spectacular gravestone. It was almost non-distinguishable from the others, but to me it stuck out a mile away; because it was his gravestone.

I collapsed to my knees, my streaming tears mingling with the heavy rain and caressed the muddy grown with numb fingers. He was there, mere feet below me, silent, unmoving…dead. Barely conscious of my actions, I slid sideways into the mud and my left cheek became caked in brown sludge. Yet more tears dripped of the end of my nose and onto the floor, barely making a difference to the already soaked mud. I must have looked like such a tramp, something my Mother would have been disgusted at, but I didn't care anymore. The cold attempted to penetrate my numb shield, but to no avail. After this, I doubted I would feel anything quite the same again. He wasn't even supposed to die. It had been an accident…

_A black wind took them away_

_From sight_

_And now the darkness over day_

_That night_

November 1st 1981, that was when it happened. The parents of the prophecy had just been murdered and the wizarding world was thrown into confusion and chaos. Nobody knew what to do. Should we celebrate the downfall of the world's most powerful dark wizard? Should we mourn the death of the parents of the prophecy? Nobody knew. Being one of many faces in a Slytherin-loving family, I was dragged to various pubs where we toasted to the legacy of the Dark Lord, and mourned his defeat. My family were crestfallen, but I didn't care. I figured he deserved what he got, and so instead I cried for the lost parents, and cried in happiness that hope had come at last in the form of a tiny, black-haired baby.

So yeah, I didn't care; there was a time when I did. A time when I thought Muggles were the scum that should be wiped off the face of the Earth; but those thoughts walked out the door when he walked in. My family had no idea of course. I would be skinned alive if they ever thought I was in love with a Muggle! And so I sat there, pretending to mourn the end of the Dark Lord, secretly counting down the seconds before I could go home and see him. I had no idea that he would be in a coffin when I did.

I walked out of the building on that cold, November night, unable to stand much more of my family, and prepared to apparate. Seconds before I managed to turn on the spot, his sister came running up to me, her blonde curls in disarray and tears in her eyes.

"What is it?" I asked as she stopped in front of me, panting heavily; she had obviously run a long way.

"Did you hear about the street that got blasted apart this afternoon?" she squeaked.

I nodded. Of course I'd heard about it! Who hadn't? Sirius Black (the psychopath who betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord) was cornered by Peter Pettigrew. Black panicked and cast a spell (though Muggles were told he threw a bomb), blowing up the whole street, killing Pettigrew and a dozen other Muggles. But why would this be relevant?

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked blankly.

"Andrew…Andrew," she muttered, before swaying on the spot; I caught her with impatient, yet steady arms.

My heart was pounding in my throat and I pressed her to find out more.

"Yes, yes; what about Andrew?"

"H-he was on that street when it was blasted apart," she barely choked out.

What?

"No," I began, shaking my head. "He couldn't have been on the street. Nobody survived when the cur- I mean explosion took place. So that would mean that he is…"

She nodded grimly. This time it was my turn to be caught.

"Oh…oh my…,"

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. No, Andrew was not dead. He couldn't be. And when I got home he would be waiting on the threshold for me. He wasn't dead. No. Not him. Anyone but him.

_And the clouds above move closer_

_Looking so dissatisfied_

_But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing_

The present day rain froze me still further as the wind picked my dull, black hair off my shoulders and whipped it round my face, which I finally decided to raise from the ground.

"I love you," I whispered with trembling lips to the man beneath my feet, stroking the large slab of stone gently.

Taking a long, last look, I vanished into the storm with a loud pop.

_I used to be my own protection_

_But not now_

_Because my path has lost direction_

_Somehow_

Unable to face going home, I stayed at my Muggle-hating brother's house. He was all too glad to take me in, and didn't ask questions. That was one of my favourite things about him; he was easy. As long as the proper amount of money was involved, he would never show any hint of curiosity. While I stayed there I never dared mention Andrew, lest I be cursed into oblivion by my prejudiced family. No, it was better to keep it secret. So for the next few months I wandered the house, a mere ghost of my former self. Not showing any hint of emotion, lest the whole thing spill out. I was numb. I did whatever I could to help around the house, got a job that required me to work almost 24/7. I had to keep busy constantly. I couldn't afford to leave myself spare time to think about him. I did almost everything I could to forget; but the truth was I didn't want to.

I didn't want to forget Andrew. I couldn't. He saved me, in more ways than one. I was just a rich, spoiled brat who supported Slytherin and only cared about herself. But then he came along and everything changed. He wooed me away from everything I had been taught to believe since birth, and showed me I was allowed to make my own decisions. I decided I loved him. Well I didn't so much decide; I mean, you can't help who you love. But you understand…I hope. And so although I knew it would help me to forget, I didn't want to. This became an inner battle I struggled with every single day. So there I was, stuck in a dead end job I didn't care about, living with my evil, good for nothing brother, wandering around like a zombie. How could everything have gone so wrong?

_A black wind took you away_

_From sight_

_And now the darkness over day_

_That night_

We were going to be married, for Merlin's sake! Just days before his death, he had proposed. The wedding was going to be on the 14th February 1982: Valentines Day. What better day to have a wedding? The rest of our time together had been stretched ahead like a long highway and we were cruising down it. But then, as suddenly as reaching the edge of a cliff, it had been cut short. To put it the childish way: it wasn't fair. What had he done to deserve such a horrible death? And what had I done to deserve a lifetime of misery?

_And the clouds above move closer_

_Looking so dissatisfied_

_And the ground below grew colder_

_As they put you down inside_

_But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing_

February the 14th 1982 found me sitting at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron, downing shot after shot after shot. I was doing so well. Nobody had even the slightest idea how completely and utterly destroyed I was. I had put on a good act; but as I woke up this morning and remembered the day, I barely had a moments notice before my resolve shattered; the broken shards puncturing my already broken heart. Unable to stand showing my brother that I was emotionally incompetent, I apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, and spent the day drowning my sorrows in Firewhisky.

My hair ruffled slightly as the night time breeze leaked through the window behind me. I was deliberately turned away from the windows, because every five seconds some happy couple would walk past holding hands, relishing each other's company, celebrating this oh so cheerful day. It was almost too much to bear. Being drunk was so much easier. Nothing seemed real when you were smothered in the confusion that comes from too much alcohol.

_So now you're gone_

_And I was wrong_

_I never knew what it was like_

_To be alone on Valentines Day_

I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so alone with the exception of the past few months. My life was so lost without him.

Time went on, and I wasn't sure if it was the drink or not, but my mind was conjuring up disturbing thoughts. Thoughts along the lines of Voldemort, my family and Andrew. I started to think that maybe Voldemort was right. Maybe love was a weakness. It seemed likely. After all, I felt anything but strong at that moment. Anyone I knew who saw me right now would be appalled. I came from one of the most highly respected Pure Blood families in the entire wizarding world, and yet here I was, at the Leaky Cauldron, drunk and unpolished. I'd always resented Voldemort and his careless nature, but now I figured maybe he had a point. Sure, going through life without love would be rather unfulfilling, but it would make me much stronger, and it would be much less painful.

It may have been the drink talking, but at that moment I made a vow. A vow to be just as emotionally detached as my family and Voldemort. I refused to waste my life with heartbreak.

I, Alecto Carrow, would never be weak again.

_I used to be my own protection_

_But not now_

_Because my path has lost direction_

_Somehow_


End file.
